


Ascalon

by Polarstern (Gelaecter)



Category: Generation Kill, Reign of Fire (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dragons, Gen, YAGKYAS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelaecter/pseuds/Polarstern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This whole dragon shit was not what any of them had signed up for</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascalon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dsudis as part of YAGKYAS 2012 over on LJ

It had been five years since they first appeared. Four and a half years since the first one was sighted in American airspace. Four years since, despite the collective efforts of both the United States and Canadian military, much of the east coast had been abandoned and razed to the ground. The rest of the country had followed.

Dragons. Creatures out of ancient myth that had reduced centuries human civilisation to ash faster that should have been possible. Those who were left cowered in their shelters and prayed to whatever God they still believed in.

"Unless your name happens to be Brad Colbert," said Ray as Trombley listened intently from the back seat of the humvee. "He loves this shit. Give him a sword and a suit of armour and he'll be the happiest motherfucker on the planet. Isn't that right, Brad?"

"Please shut up, Ray," said Brad, not taking his eyes off the reddish glow on the horizon. Somewhere, a city was burning.

It was early morning on the fifth day of the last patrol Brad's team would do before the company made the final push towards one of the US military's last strongholds in Colorado. The going had been slow as they'd been ordered to check the surrounding country for any signs of survivors (and hostile elements – there were a few here and there, people who decided that the collapse of civilisation was the perfect time to carve their own tiny kingdoms in the ruins), which meant weeks idling in makeshift camps hoping none of the creatures found them while recon teams took long patrols to nearby towns and cities. The base they'd been stationed at for the past few years near Indianapolis had been abandoned after a couple of the creatures had followed a patrol back to the base one night. A lot of good men and women had died, and the Godfather was very careful to make sure it didn't happen again, even if it meant patrols had to take long detours and risk the possibility of being left behind if the company had to move on suddenly.

They were somewhere northeast of Kansas City, keeping distance from the city itself while they searched for any signs of life. Most towns they'd seen were too charred for there to be any hope of finding anything, but on the upside they hadn't seen many dragons either except for distant shadows and sudden bursts of flame.

"Is it true that you guys killed a dragon?" Trombley asked, his voice a mix of curiosity, awe and disbelief.

" _A_ dragon? Not just _a_ dragon, Trombley, it was the god damned _queen_ of-"

"Ray." Brad interrupted. He sighed and turned to face Trombley. "To answer you question, yes, we did. It was brought down by the collective efforts Bravo company and no small amount of luck. I wouldn't count on it happening again." He turned back to the window. It was Trombley's first patrol and Brad gave it at least another day before he figured out Ray was full of shit and stopped asking him stupid questions.

"I hope we find a dragon."

"Oh, and why's that Trombley? You gonna kill it?" said Ray snidely

"Fuck yeah I am," Trombley replied. "I'm gonna shoot it right in the eye, I hear that's one of their weak spots"

"You do that. I'll just stand back and watch your ass get fried."

"Ray, I will feed your dumb whiskey tango ass to the dragons myself if you don't just shut up and drive"

"Hey Brad?" Walt called out from the top of the humvee, voice muffled by his suit. "Do you see that light at 3 o'clock?"

"Yeah, I see it," Brad replied. The was a small cluster of buildings a few miles out, with a small spot of light right in the middle. "That a campfire?"

"Who the fuck would be retarded enough to set up a campfire out in the open like that?" said Ray. "I say we let them get eaten."

"Let's go check it out," Brad said, giving Ray a look. Ray snorted and turned the humvee towards the light, jolting as they went over a ditch.

They stopped just out of sight of the buildings. "Trombley, you're with me. Ray, be ready in case we need to make a getaway." Brad climbed out of the truck and started walking up the hill, Trombley on his heels.

The campfire had burned down to coals when they reached it, but there was no sign of whoever had set it up. Brad motioned for Trombley to check out the barn to the left when there was a noise from a small shed at the edge of the circle of buildings. The two of them crept towards it, got into position, and Brad opened the door.

Of all the places Evan thought a career in journalism would take him, hiding in a shed in Buttfuck, Kansas, waiting to be shot by what were probably the crazy gun-toting assholes that seemed to be all that was left at the end of the world was really not one of them.

He'd been in Virginia for observation after the first sighting, back when all this started, and he'd ended up running for his life across three states with a couple hundred other survivors as the land behind them burned. Most of them weren't survivors any more, and those that were still alive were holding out somewhere back in Kentucky but Evan had eventually decided to keep moving west with nothing but his notebook. He'd seen a lot of burned out cities, broken families, and despair. Everyone he'd met was looking for someone they knew they'd never see again, and he'd written down everyone's stories in the hope they wouldn't be forgotten.

Didn't really matter now anyway. He knew he shouldn't have risked that campfire.

The door opened slowly and he found himself staring down the barrel of an automatic rifle.

"Don't shoot, I'm unarmed!" The man holding the gun's mouth twitched in amusement, and then Evan noticed the uniforms. "Oh, you're military," he said, relief flooding through him. "Thank God."

"Who else would we be?" asked another, younger man.

"What do you think, Trombley," replied the first man. "Sargent Brad Colbert, United States Marine Corp. This is Private Trombley."

"I'm Evan. Er, Evan Wright."

"So, _Evan_ " said Brad, lowering his weapon. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm heading west, just... trying to stay alive I guess." He shrugged.

"Alone?"

"Yeah."

"No desire to become king of your own little patch of Hell?"

"Um, no?"

Brad snorted. "Well, unless you fancy becoming food for the next thing to see your camp, I suggest you come with us." Evan eyed the sky nervously and nodded. "Trombley, watch the horizon. We're heading back."

They started towards a humvee parked at the edge of a bank of trees, stopping briefly to kick dirt over the remains of the camp. As they got close, a man pushed open the door and walked towards them.

"Nice timing Brad, LT's on the radio for you." He paused as he saw Evan. "We bringing him with us?

"Can't exactly leave him out here, Ray," Brad replied. "We move out as soon as I'm off the radio."

Ray turned towards Evan. "Well, always good to see someone else who's managed to avoid becoming dragon chow I guess. I'm Ray Person, and that up there is Walt Hasser."

Evan looked up at the top of the humvee as someone wearing what appeared to be a giant silver HAZMAT suit turned slowly towards him.

"What's up?" came a muffled voice from inside the suit. Evan could just barely make out his face from beneath the reflective mask.

"Aren't you hot in there?" was the first thing Evan could thing of to say.

"Boiling," came the amused reply. "Better than being on fire though."

On the other side of the truck, Brad picked up the radio.

"Brad?" Fick's voice came through, crackling slightly.

"Sir?"

"Command has decided it's time to push forward early, you're going to have to cut your patrol short and return to base."

"How long do we have?"

"We're set to move out 07.00 Thursday, you have three days."

"It will take us at least three days to get back, you know how slow land travel is these days."

"I thought as much. Sorry Brad, that's as long as I could get you, there's been on too many sightings within range of the base and Godfather's getting nervous. Pappy's team is due back tomorrow morning, after that you're the only team outstanding and unfortunately Godfather isn't willing to risk the whole company for four men. If you miss us, you know where the base is."

"I understand. We should get moving then."

"Of course. And Brad?" There was a pause. "Even if the company moves on, you can count on us to be here when you arrive. Bravo Two doesn't leave men behind."

Brad smiled. "Thank you, Sir."

"Good luck out there." The radio cut out, and Brad went back to where he'd left Ray and Evan.

"What'd the LT want?" asked Ray.

"Company's moving out, which means we have three days to-"

"Brad!" Walt called. "Delta incoming!"

Brad pushed Evan into the humvee and climbed into the front seat, Ray and Trombley seconds behind him. He did a quick check to make sure everyone was secure as Ray started the engine.

"Walt?"

"There's one at 8 o'clock, closing fast."

Ray hit the accelerator just as there was a huge roar from behind them and a great shadow flew over them.

"Christ those things move fast," Ray said, turning onto an old dirt road. The dragon swooped down and let out a burst of flame, missing the back of the truck by a few inches, before banking around and coming at them from the front. It landed a few yards ahead of them and shot another burst straight into the windscreen.

"Motherfucker!" Ray exclaimed, swerving to the side and narrowly avoiding a swipe of it's tail.

"Easy Ray," said Brad, thumping twice on the roof. Walt's answering thumps came a second later. "Let's make sure it's not following us and get back to base."

"Can you see where it went?"

"It's headed back towards those buildings," answered Trombley. Evan glanced over and saw it in the distance, happily setting fire to the old barn. They were safe, for now.

"It just gave up?"

"We're not exactly and easy meal," said Ray.

"We could've take it," said Trombley. "Hasser should have shot it."

"Trombley, are you actually retarded?" snapped Ray.

"Why didn't he shoot it?" asked Evan, a little shaken.

"Because that would piss it off," said Ray.

"Most of them will give it two or three tries before they realise we're fireproof," said Brad. "And usually they won't bother after that and move onto easier targets. Shooting them would give them a reason to attack us, which is, as Ray said, A-grade, special Olympics level retarded. Which is why Walt, not Trombley, is on the gun."

Trombley gave an offended huff. Evan laughed softly and pulled one of his notebooks, scrawling something down on a new page.

"What's that?" asked Trombley, leaning over to have a look.

"It's just my notebook. I like to write all this kind of stuff down. Probably not going to do anything with it, but I feel like I should?"

"You some sort of writer?"

"I used to work for Rolling Stone. You know, before."

"Oh, like a reporter?" Ray said. "Your next big story can be all about how we totally saved your ass from our friend George back there."

"George?"

"You know, like Saint George."

"Saint George was the knight, Ray," said Brad, "Not the dragon."

"Well no shit, Bradley. It's called irony. I would've thought your fucking overeducated ass would know all about that."

"I was thinking of making it a book actually," Evan interrupted. "It's kinda stupid. They don't really make books anymore, and there's not many people left to read them."

"Paper's too flammable," said Ray.

"Where you guys in the Marines before all this happened?"

"Brad and I were, although it's all kinda one branch these days. Walt and Trombley joined afterwards, at least they knew what they were getting into. This whole dragon thing was not what I fucking signed up for. Trombley here though, he's all about the dragon slaying."

"We should be going after them," said Trombley. "Not hiding and letting them take over our country."

"No one is letting them take over anything, Trombley," said Brad with a sigh. "Would you prefer it if they had kept nuking everything that moved?"

"They burned down my town, you know," he said, ignoring Brad. "And my school. We hid in a cellar until they went away."

"Did your family make it out?"

"Yeah. They're in California now, I think."

"Do you know what happened to your families?" Evan asked, addressing Brad and Ray.

Ray was silent. Brad watched his hands tighten on the steering wheel for a moment before he twisted around and said, "We don't really talk about that."

"Oh."

Over the next two days they drove nearly non stop. Evan slept for most of it, it had been a while since he was able to sleep without concern for his safety. They woke him when they stopped for a piss or to pass out some shitty old MREs which both Brad and Ray would bitch about endlessly even as they woofed them down, but otherwise they let him sleep. The only other thing they stopped for was for Ray and Brad or Walt and Trombley to trade places. The first time the later happened he'd slept through it, waking up to see an unfamiliar face sitting next to him. When he startled Ray laughed at him.

"What's the matter, Reporter? I'd think anyone who's been lost alone in the wilderness as long as you would be fucking delighted to wake up next to Walt Hasser. I mean, he's no Rudy Reyes, but look at him."

Walt rolled his eyes and grinned at Evan. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in months," Evan replied. "Feel good to be out of that suit?"

"You have no idea."

The journey was largely uneventful. A few distant sightings, too far away to be much risk although they were watched closely to make sure they stayed that way.

"So, aside from me, do you often find people when you're out on patrol?" asked Evan on the third day.

"Not anymore," said Ray. "Most people are either in registered compounds or dead. There's always a few Rambos out there of course. Had some cocksucker take a few shots at us outside Peoria last year, we fucked him up though."

"Are there lots of those? I thought it would be a isolated problem."

"Unfortunately they're fucking everywhere. Stafford calls them LAMoEs. They're a pretty big pain in our asses, but I don't know what else anyone expected from this country. Half the population was one step away from crazy town even before this happened."

"There's smoke over those hill," Brad interrupted suddenly. In the distance, a black pillar of smoke was just barely visible against the murky grey sky. Everyone became very, very alert. "Walt, what do you see?"

"Not much," Walt called back. "There's no fire I don't think, but I'll get a better look when the sun's up. We should keep our distance though."

"Think that's coming from base?" asked Trombley.

Brad sent him a brief glare. "Ray, take us in slow and let us get a good look before we go in." He paused. "Stay frosty, everyone."

It was not quite the triumphant return they had hoped for. Instead of hundreds of Marines and a fleet of victors all ready to march, they were greeted by the charred and blackened husks of supply vans and scraps of fabric that were all that was left of tents. Ray rolled the humvee to a stop a few yards out and they gazed down on what we left of the camp in silence.

"Ray, turn us around and head south west," said Brad after a moment.

"Brad, should we-" Ray began.

"No, there's nothing down there. We'll push on to Colorado Springs, join the rest of our forces. Any survivors will be heading that way too."

Ray silently backed up and turned away from the camp. None of them looked back.

They stopped and made camp a few hours later, well out of range of the base. Ray hadn't said a single word since they'd left and the silence was almost oppressive.

"Trombley and I'll will take first watch," said Brad as the humvee rolled to a stop. They'd chosen a small clearing under a rocky overhang that would hopefully hide them from sight. "Ray, show Rolling Stone how to dig himself a grave."

They slept in shallow pits covered by a sheet of fireproof material. A precaution, Ray had said, although they were unlikely to do much once the dragon realised you're under there. It made Evan feel safer anyway.

"All the fireproof trucks were gone," he heard Trombley say to Brad. "Means at least a few of them got away, right?"

"Just watch the sky, Trombley," Brad replied.

The next morning as they packed their supplies away, Evan heard a soft noise in the surrounding trees.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Ray, who was standing by the humvee.

"There are birds in the trees."

"That's nice, Reporter."

"You almost never hear birds anymore. There's must not be any dragons nearby."

"That's good for us then," said Brad. "Let's get moving."

They pushed on, reaching denser pockets of suburbia which slowed their pace to a crawl. They stayed on roads where they could, frequently backtracking when they found their path blocked by cars or collapsed buildings, or cut across the remains of buildings when they found there was enough space to go through.

They finally stopped again shortly after crossing the boarder, near a patch of houses that looked considerably less burnt than the surrounding area.

"Reporter, stay in the vehicle while we have a look around," said Brad, "Walt, you stay with him. I'm going to put Trombley on the gun when we get back, so go ahead and un-suit."

Brad and Ray walked a short way from the humvee towards the houses, Trombley trailing after them. "There's something very odd here," Brad said in a low voice.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Brad," Ray replied.

"Keep a sharp eye out. Ray, check the buildings to our left, Trombley and I will take right."

Brad slowly approached the front door of a largely untouched townhouse, pushing it open and taking a look inside. The hallway was coated in a thick layer of dust, but otherwise everything looked as though it had not been touched since before the city was evacuated. He started down the hallway with a growing sense of foreboding.

He turned to look into a room off to the side when a shadow passed over the far window. The both raised their weapons and stated backing out.

"Trombley," said Brad, "Get back to the humvee. I think we've been made."

They went back out onto the street, weapons raised and ready. There was no sign of Ray, and Brad was about to go and get him when he heard Trombley's sharp intake of breath.

The creature crept slowly out from between to large houses in front of them, keeping low to the ground and eyeing them both with one huge orange eye like a cat when it knows its prey is caught. It was small, probably only a juvenile, but it was more than large enough for them. Brad could see the humvee behind it, but there was no way they would get past.

Brad grabbed Trombley by the arm and yanked him backwards as the dragon let out a short roar and leapt at them with surprising speed. They dived around the corner just in time to avoid a short burst of flame. They ran around the back of the house and cut through the yard as it tried to follow them through the gap. It spotted them again immediately as they ran back onto the street and they had to duck behind an overturned car to avoid another blast.

They had a clear shot at the humvee now, if they were lucky they'd make it before it caught them.

"Run on three. One-"

There was a sudden burst of gunfire and the dragon roared in pain, twisting it's head over towards the other side of the street where a figure crouched half hidden behind a wall. It leaped after the new target, who jumped up and dodged a swipe of its claws.

"God damn it, Ray," Brad hissed. He jumped up and ran towards the dragon which was now chasing Ray down the street. Ray managed to roll out of the way of another swipe, but the third clipped him across the leg and sent him flying, leaving him momentarily stunned on the pavement with the creature crouched over him but making no move to finish him off.

 _It's just toying with us_ , Brad realised suddenly. He raised his gun to try and distract it, but someone else fired first.

Walt stood in the middle of the road in his fireproof suit, gun raised. The dragon gave a furious roar in his direction, placing a foot on Ray's back to prevent him moving and taking a deep breath. Walt braced himself, and Brad watched as the fire hit him dead on. He staggered as the fire died out, then falling down as the second blast hit him hard. The dragon took another deep breath, but before it could let go of another blast, Brad leapt between them and fired straight into its mouth.

The dragon roared in pain and shock, rearing up and shaking its head back and forth. Ray, freed from its clutches, was struggling to get back on his feet. Brad pulled him to his feet and they limped as fast as they could back to the truck, Trombley supporting Walt just ahead of them. Evan opened the rear door and helped pull Walt in.

"Just get in back and close the hatch," yelled Brad, all but throwing Ray into the front passenger seat before running around and jumping into the drivers side just as the dragon recovered and charged after them. Several other dragons had begun circling, attracted by the fire and noise, and a few of them started swooping at the humvee, causing Brad to swerve and almost ram into a house. He pulled it around and sped back out onto the road back the way they came.

The dragons gave them a good chase, it was at least three hours and many close calls before Brad was absolutely sure they weren't being followed anymore. Walt had removed his mask and was shivering violently in the overcrowded back seat as Evan helped him drink from a canteen. Ray was using his jacket to put pressure on the three steadily bleeding gashes across his leg, but it wasn't much use. They needed to find somewhere to stop for the night.

"Ouch! Jesus Chris, Brad."

They were holed up in an old storeroom under a warehouse, with water leaking down from the walls and a draft that seemed to come from nowhere. But it was safe, for now.

Walt was asleep in one corner, curled in a ball, shaking and sweating, with Evan keeping an eye on him while Trombley kept watch by the entrance. Ray sat on an old bench while Brad carefully cleaned and dressed his injures.

"Have I made you mad or something?" he asked with a grimace as Brad pulled the thread just a little harder than necessary. "I'm sorry I got blood all over your seat. Oww! Seriously, you should be a little nicer to the guy who saved your ass back there."

"I think you mean the dumbshit who almost got himself killed."

"As if I was going to let it fry you, Brad," Ray said, leaning his head back against the wall as Brad finished stitching him up and got out the bandages. His skin was pale and clammy, and his hands were shaking slightly.

"Had it under control," replied Brad. "Besides, if you die I'll have no choice but to have Trombley drive us the rest of the way."

"Do _not_ even fucking joke about that, asshole."

Brad snorted and finished his work. "Alright, that's done. I'm going to check on Walt, get some sleep and try not to do anything else stupid while I'm gone."

"Whatever you say, Saint George," said Ray, lowering himself gingerly onto a mat.

"So I'm the knight now?" Ray's only response was a snore. Brad shook his head and walked over to Evan and Walt. "You might want to get some sleep, Reporter, we'll be moving again in a few hours."

He shook Walt awake long enough to drink some more water, after which he immediately passed out again. Hopefully he'd be better after some rest. He sent Trombley to go get some sleep and settled by the door to watch the sun rise.

The next morning the quickly ate some MREs and got back on the road. Trombley took the gun, using there spare suit since the one Walt had worn was no longer structurally sound, while Walt dozed in the back seat. He was more alert than he had been the night before but was still quite groggy. Ray was back in the drivers seat, for as long as his leg held out anyway.

"We shouldn't be more than a day or two out," said Brad. "No point stopping again until we get there."

"Man, I can't wait to get some actual food, maybe take a shower," said Ray, "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a shower?"

"Yes, Ray, we are all painfully aware of how long it's been since you've showered."

"Ha ha, Brad. Seriously though, you might not see me for a week." He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Hey Brad? Can you promise me something?"

"What, Ray?"

"If I die, and I don't mean before the end of this trip I mean, like, _ever_... please don't let Trombley drive my truck." 

Brad just laughed.

The first sign they were getting close was a massive dragon head on a spike.

"I think I like these guys," said Ray, "They really know how to lighten up the place."

They approached the base cautiously and were met outside by a squad of Marines. After a brief interrogation they were directed into the base and told to drive right down to the back. A small group of Marines were clustered around one of the large, silver structures that covered the camp. Brad rolled down his window as they approached and rolled to a stop.

"Well, well, well," said one man, walking over to the vehicle. Poke leaned against the door frame and looked inside with a grin. "I thought you white boys were gone for good."

"Takes more than that to get rid off us," replied Ray, "Not even dragon fire can melt the Iceman."

Brad raised an eyebrow at Poke. "So been here long?"

"Only got here a few days ago. It got a bit hairy out there, but this place ain't so bad. Most of it's underground, but the tents are all fireproof and any fucker that tries anything gets chased off pretty quick."

"Brad." They turned to see Nate walking around the side of the tent. Poke moved back over to stand with the others. "Welcome to Silene, glad you could make it." He grinned. "Sorry we couldn't wait for you."

"Don't be, Sir. From what we saw, I don't blame you."

"Well, the Godfather will want to see you. Get your men settled in first, then meet me over there. Relax, you're safe now."

Safe. For now.


End file.
